


creature of habit (redux)

by shepherd



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Canon, Teasing, redux, this is basically gladnis sex habits sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29930646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: Sitting up, frowning, something twinged in Ignis’ lower back. It had been a long day of desk work, calling into a half dozen meetings and providing his signature on countless papers. Ignis had dreaded such days in his youth. “Is something wrong?”For another moment Gladio was silent. Ignis could almost see him there, his gaze lowered, and brows firmly knit. A blanket was half fallen over Ignis’ knees and Ignis thumbed the familiar rough threads. Their legs had been twined together all evening, from the very moment they sat and called for takeout until they had sat through countless panel shows, half asleep, and Gladio clearly elsewhere.“Mm,” Gladio said. “It’s nothing.”
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Kudos: 30





	creature of habit (redux)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [creature of habit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9983231) by [shepherd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd). 



> so no one asked and this broke the rules, but i was looking back at old works due to the ffxv rewind event and couldn't bear to share the original (though i don't really want to delete it??) so i edited creature of habit, my very first gladnis. changes are as follows
> 
> 1) general updating to fit my writing style, which i feel hasn't really changed that much. also lots near the end is the same which is why it's more like a heavy edit than a rewrite  
> 2) more obvious setting - creature of habit was written before playing the game which is clear to me on a reread, as ignis is blind at this point but they're still in a hotel, which doesn't make any sense timeline wise  
> 3) more streamlined characterisation that fits with my reading of the characters  
> 4) way more feral. way, way more feral.
> 
> so here you go and also sorry

A warm and rough hand slipped along Ignis’ calf, curling around his ankle, and Ignis exhaled a soft, pleased sigh.

The touch was featherlight. Ignis’ ankles were in no way sensitive, but he preened under the back and forth of those fingers, the tracing of bone and skin. Purring softly, perfectly content to longue back against their sofa and snooze, Ignis leaned his head against the cushion. His eyes didn’t even flicker. Distant noises from the television were simply that – noises, and he paid them no heed.

“Ignis,” Gladio said after a while, voice rough and low in the peaceful quiet of their longue. But as quickly as boldness had possessed him it was gone again, shying away into darkness.

With a gentle murmur Ignis opened his eyes. They had drifted shut slowly but surely over the course of their evening together. It had been all too easy to drift into the kind of contentment Ignis rarely had time for, but now his brows sank. From the other end of the sofa he could feel Gladio’s restlessness. Such a moment was rare – Gladio’s hands were always confident and steady, but tonight they meandered across Ignis’ skin. His thumb pressed comfortably against the soles of Ignis’ foot and still Ignis knew he frowned, mind elsewhere.

Ignis had long been attracted to Gladio’s easy-going nature. Too many people at the Citadel wore frowns and wrinkled foreheads, decades of daily service wearing them down. Somehow it was easy for Gladio to retain his smile, and Ignis had been obsessed with Gladio’s mouth since day one. There was something to be said about the softness of it, the bow of his lips and how carefully they could press against Ignis’ body, and how roughly they could claim his own. Often his kisses came unbidden, cloying and cocksure, and Ignis could only ever laugh.

There had once been kisses against Ignis’ calves. They had fallen to his ankles and tickled all the way up to his bare thighs, Gladio’s groomed beard a pleasant and familiar shock to his system. Ignis missed them sorely. Surely it was a crime that Gladio’s mouth was distracted. No doubt pouting. Gladio’s lips were hot and dry and perfect and Ignis wanted them to tease every single inch of his skin. The weekend was theirs. If tonight was not the time to be selfish, then Ignis would never know such pleasure. There was no better time than the two of them, alone and free at last.

With a shift of his hips Ignis parted his legs further, hoping for lustful inspiration to strike. Perhaps it would push Gladio into kissing him again – but there was no such luck. Gladio remained distractedly petting Ignis’ feet and as lovely as that was Ignis longed for more.

Sitting up, frowning, something twinged in his lower back. It had been a long day of desk work, calling into a half dozen meetings and providing his signature on countless papers. Ignis had dreaded such days in his youth. “Is something wrong?”

For another moment Gladio was silent. Ignis could almost see him there, his gaze lowered, and brows firmly knit. A blanket was half fallen over Ignis’ knees and Ignis thumbed the familiar rough threads. Their legs had been twined together all evening, from the very moment they sat and called for takeout until they had sat through countless panel shows, half asleep, and Gladio clearly elsewhere.

“Mm,” Gladio said, and Ignis liked that throaty hum best somewhere between his legs. “It’s nothing.”

Ignis caught something wrong, hidden away so deeply that anyone else might not have noticed. There was a discordant tone and Ignis considered him a moment longer, listening for Gladio’s steady breaths. They came deep and calm and Ignis moved on instinct.

Pulling his feet free and immediately missing Gladio’s hands, longing for them to spread his legs and push him back against the sofa, he crawled closer. Pulling his own hands from his loose hair, he found Gladio’s shoulders and savoured the width. On impulse he trailed his hands all the way down his biceps, swearing he could almost feel the bumps detailing jet black feathers. But his skin was as soft and warm as ever, nicked only now and then with small scars. It was soothing to feel the ebbing heat, the rush of blood as Ignis ghosted over his wrists.

Gladio was gorgeous. Even all these years later it was enough to steal Ignis’ breath.

“If it has you thinking quite this hard, there must be something on your mind,” he murmured and made to straddle Gladio’s thighs. Ignis’ knees parted and sank deeply into the softness of the sofa. Gladio’s thighs were wondrously comfortable, thick with muscle, and immediately Gladio’s hands settled upon his waist.

Somehow such touch still seemed the most intimate of all. They could kiss and lick wherever they liked, and by the six they had, but there was nothing more thrilling that Gladio pulling him close, steadying him upon his lap. “It’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

Angling his head, looking down his nose at Gladio in a way that was useless but still managed to get Gladio hot under the collar, he settled his hands over his. Squeezing his palms, he turned them upright to lace their fingers together. Gladio locked them in without hesitation.

A low grumble sounded. _As expected,_ Ignis thought, and Gladio finally lifted his head high enough for Ignis to feel his billowing breath against his cheek. Gladio smelt like spice and beer. “Can I…?”

It was endearing how Gladio always sought his permission. Golden bands gleamed upon their fingers and Ignis smiled. “Of course.”

He wasn’t left waiting for a single second. Something bright and beautiful bloomed in Ignis’ chest as Gladio’s lips met his. They were careful and sweet, fond like they had been apart for weeks rather than wound together for hours, and Ignis sighed happily against him. His body quickly grew warm with affection, desire, and the thrum of lust that had gone unrecognised. With their noses nudging they leant in closer, kissing deeply with Ignis’ tongue tracing Gladio’s plush lower lip and Gladio murmuring something sweet into Ignis’ mouth.

For a long moment they simply kissed. It was all they needed. With their hands still connected Ignis’ thumb rubbed against Gladio’s ring, encouraging him to kiss him harder, and Gladio obeyed eagerly.

When they pulled back to breathe Gladio caught Ignis’ lower lip between his teeth. He tugged just enough to be playful and Ignis swept his tongue across, lips swollen and pink. With just a hint of roguishness – something classically Gladio – and a little suggestion from Ignis, perhaps he could be pulled out of his moody spell.

“Tell me what you need,” Ignis murmured against him, turning his head to nuzzle against Gladio’s throat. He kissed the patch of skin just beneath his ear and pulled his hands away to grope across Gladio’s thigh, left briefs. They had lost track of most of their clothes long ago. Gladio was perfectly content to lounge in his boxers and Ignis had left his shirt largely unbuttoned, tie long cast aside. Two messy men, eager to ruin each other even more.

There was still a point of contention between them. Gladio turned his head away, ready to protest, but Ignis could not be shaken free so easily. Chasing him, Ignis pressed kiss after kiss against the corner of his mouth and his cheek, sloppy and hungry. All the while his hand ran further up his thigh and caressed his skin. “Tell me,” he breathed, and he could feel Gladio’s impressive resolve crumble into nothing more than ash, gone in the breeze.

A free hand settled upon Ignis’ bicep. It slid torturously slow all the way along his shoulder and throat to cup his cheek. Ignis leaned into the touch, damn close to purring at his age, and Gladio barely hesitated. “Show me what you like?”

His touch was bliss. Ignis could only just find the concentration to frown and bunched his hands in the band of Gladio’s briefs. An already impressive bulge kept within began to thicken and stir. “What I like?”

There was the barest hint of innuendo – Ignis preferred it dripping – and Gladio nodded. If he carried that old flush high upon his cheekbones, Ignis could not tell. It was a shame. The few times Ignis had managed to make a man as scandalous as Gladio blush, he always looked delicious. “Wanna watch you get yourself off. Wanna see what gets you going.”

As pleasant as the thought was the confusion was not far beyond. Ignis’ hands and toys could never be as satisfying as the weight of Gladio’s cock spearing him, curling his toes. There was only so much pleasure his imagination could inspire. “You’ve made it very clear you know full well what I like, love.”

In truth, Gladio was everything that Ignis could ever have dreamed of in a partner. While he was loving and honest, dedicated, and charming, he was a quick study and always sought to give Ignis nothing less than the best. Every kiss was perfectly placed and Gladio had long memorized every single spot in and out that would make Ignis quiver. Ignis couldn’t possibly want more. There was no sense in depriving them both.

And Gladio seemed to know it. For him Ignis’ face was an open book and he stumbled over himself to explain. “I just…” he began, and his thumb rubbed kindly over Ignis’ cheek. The last time he had done that Ignis had his cock resting over his full lips, wet and straining, and the memory had his gut clenching, lips parting on instinct. It was incomprehensible to Ignis why Gladio would rather watch Ignis entertain himself rather than fuck his mouth. “I wanna see what you do. How you’d do it, if I wasn’t there. Not putting on a show for anyone – just you rocking your own world, you know?” Seemingly embarrassed, he hesitated, and Ignis swore he could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ve been wondering how someone like you – someone who knows what he wants, and just how to get it – would get himself off when no one’s watching.”

Ignis’ belly had knotted itself up in a way that only Gladio knew how to unwind. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

A little self-depreciating laugh met his ears. “Oh, you don’t even wanna know,” he said, but he was wrong. Ignis did. He burnt to know. “It’s been pretty all consuming. Hard to stop thinking about you making yourself come.”

Flattery would get Gladio everywhere, and he knew it all too well. Charming words had gotten Ignis’ legs spread more than a dozen times, and wicked ones had Gladio’s back flat against the mattress, moaning desperately. Gladio knew how to play him, and Ignis supposed it only made sense that he wanted to know how Ignis played himself. It was rarer now that Ignis had to take care of such matters but Gladio sometimes had long days away from home and Ignis had pressing needs while Gladio was stuck in traffic. There were still toys kept in a box beneath their bed – just kept around for sharing, and entertainment, rather than sole needs.

The thought was almost touching. While he had no clue where Gladio had gotten the spark of inspiration from, perhaps he worried about Ignis’ desires while he was away. Perhaps he wanted memories to warm his own lonely bed, but Ignis knew he had more than enough of those to keep him busy. Ignis had only wished he had a similar thought before his eyes were taken from him.

Relying on memory was difficult. His age was not yet a concern, barely approaching his forties, and Ignis was sure he would remember the sight of Gladio until the day he died. Often, he familiarised himself with dragging his fingers along his abs, stroking along his back, squeezing handfuls of the softness that had begun to creep up on Gladio in their times of peace. But Ignis had never taken the opportunity to enjoy Gladio’s little habits. How he stroked himself, how he sighed and panted, how the flush crawled along his belly to claim his chest.

Back then it had all been technicalities. Ignis hadn’t taken advantage of their foreplay. It had felt wonderful at the time, for certain, and the sight of Gladio looming over him with his cock in his hand, hand wet with slick and pumping hard had inspired far more sex than they could realistically cram into their schedules. Together, they had found a way. Ignis couldn’t quite believe that back then Ignis had almost found such matters boring – _six_ , the thoughts of his impassioned and barely restrained lover getting himself off, to thoughts of him – watching his hips jerk into his own hand, his teeth worrying his lower lip and grunting hard. Wishing his hand was Ignis’, and Ignis’ lust roared to life, boiling his blood.

It had been a terribly long time since Ignis had felt any kind of uncertainty when it came to Gladio. The hard cock that pressed against his chased away any doubt that would come creeping from their past. “I’m not particularly exciting, I’m afraid,” he warned, just to set the standards for the evening. “There’s only so many ones one can masturbate, even for one as creative as I.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gladio replied promptly. There wasn’t a single beat of hesitation and Ignis’ heart bloomed with pride. “As long as you’re willing, I’d love to see it.”

“I’m more than willing,” Ignis said with a languid roll of his hips, the snap of Gladio’s band against his skin, and delighted in Gladio’s moan.

Ignis made sure there was no expense spared in their bedroom.

In their early years together they hadn’t spent much time here. They stole hours in their offices, in their Citadel apartments, or stayed up late chattering and stuffing their faces at Noctis’ apartment. Ignis wasn’t quite sure how he had made it on such a poor diet, in comparison, and such little sleep. Coffee, Gladio had told him brightly, and Ignis supposed that was one teenage habit that refused to die.

But Ignis had made certain to pour most of his monthly wage into their bed. If they were working on such little sleep, they would have the finest mattress possible, enough to soothe Gladio’s weary body after endless training sessions, and special pillows for the occasional flare ups of acne that truly meant nothing but Ignis crushed such rebellion for the sympathetic memory of his teenage self. They had countless blankets and a high-quality duvet, covers changed out frequently and washed carefully, and every single time Ignis had forced himself to change the sheets while exhausted was well and truly worth it.

Ignis had never been fucked against such a wonderful mattress in his life.

It was a pleasure to settle against their bed, body sinking into the memory foam. The sheets were rolled up and out of the way – _splash damage_ , Ignis had told Gladio firmly countless times, and Gladio always rolled his eyes but obeyed – and Ignis delighted, sighing softy. With his long legs spread his feet were nowhere near the edges of the bed, wide enough for two tall men to share and strong enough to take any abuse.

Gladio knelt at the furthest end as his whiskey eyes were intense. They gleamed as Ignis shrugged out his last piece of clothing, shirt thrown aside to lay forgotten and creased. His hand came forward again, stroking along the slopes of his foot, and Ignis loved those hands sorely. Crafted by Astrals, and only for him.

“Still sure you want me out here?”

Ignis nodded and folded his glasses, setting them safely to one side. “I’m happy – as long as you are?”

Gladio grunted affirmation. “Of course.”

“Wonderful,” Ignis said, slipping into a purr, and settled his back against the frame. He rest his hand upon his own belly, stroking his thumb lightly, and his cock was eager against his belly, wet at merely the thought of being touched. Their last bottle of lube lay at his side, just in case – they needed more, having gone through their multipack outstandingly quick, even for them. There was no condom. Exclusivity ensured that they were meaningless, and both liked it messy. And tonight Gladio wanted him soaked.

Vulnerability had his skin tingling, blood racing. It was his favourite thing to feel bare and left on display for hungry eyes. Control was not something that Ignis savoured when it came to the bedroom. It was pleasant enough, on occasion, but there was nothing quite like being pushed back hard and pawed at, fucked to his last wit. Pleasure and renewal walked hand in hand for Ignis and Gladio was more than happy to give it to him.

Putting on a show was something that Ignis was well accustomed to. But alone would be a challenge, and he could only hope that his habits were enough.

To his regret, Gladio still wore his underwear. It did nothing to hide him away and Ignis wished he had taken a moment to undress him properly, savouring the weight of him in his hands. But such thoughts were nothing more than a distraction from the fact that Ignis had no idea where to start. Rubbing his hand across his chest, toying with his perked nipples for just long enough to bring a content sigh from Gladio, he pinched one until it was red.

He wondered where Gladio’s eyes lingered. There was so much of him that Gladio enjoyed and none of it he was permitted to touch. Perhaps it was his cock, twitching and growing wetter and wetter, or perhaps his face, searching for the more subtle tells of pleasure. Maybe even the strength of his thighs or the flush of his chest. Either way Ignis could feel him, devouring him, and Ignis followed his cues.

Agitating his nipples a moment longer, he sighed knowing that the spark of satisfaction would be far greater if from Gladio’s hands. But he listened for Gladio’s approval, pinching and soothing until Gladio murmured to himself, content. Ignis dug for gold and twisted, gasping under his own ministrations. “Enjoying yourself, love?”

Gladio’s voice could shake the very foundations of Eos. “Fuck yes. More than you know.”

“Mm,” Ignis replied, unable to help the slow curl of his smile. With the encouragement Ignis parted his legs, drawing them up closer to show off every intimate part of him that Gladio adored. He smoothed his hands down his belly, skin prickling, acting up his breathing to become pants. There was genuine pleasure in his own touch, a pulse of arousal that inspired him greatly, but he wanted Gladio desperate to touch. Ignis knew he stared between his legs, fascinated with that little furl of skin. And Ignis teased, sliding past his curving hips and slipping just past where Gladio wanted him to touch so badly –

“Nuh-uh,” Gladio suddenly said and Ignis’ hand stopped, startled. “Not like you’re performing, Iggy – like you’re alone, and taking your time. Pretend I’m not here.”

It was easier said than done. Gladio was an electric presence and even the ghost of his hands stole Ignis’ thoughts away. “It’s so hard to not think about you coming and fucking me, jealous of my own hand,” Ignis admitted, airy and light, and Gladio swallowed loudly.

Their bed was glorious. Ignis couldn’t believe all those years he had slept curled underneath his desk or in cheap motels. Ignis would never dare sleep anywhere else and held so many fond memories of this exact bedroom. Gladio’s natural scent had overtaken the scent of laundry, musky and familiar, and Ignis turned his head into one of the pillows for comfort. They smelt like sweat but had shifted the smell of their morning sex too soon. Ignis’ heart gave a pang of disappointment.

“Mm,” he said, and Gladio leaned forward. The mattress dipped and creaked and Ignis laughed to himself before giving in entirely.

He palmed himself, hand flat against his cock. It was the perfect amount of pressure and Ignis basked in the slow up and down, enjoying the slide of his foreskin against his sensitive head. A bead of moisture slipped free and fell against his navel. It was easy to lose himself this way, rocking his hips up like he was a frantic teenager all over again, but Ignis knew how to bide his time. Ignis let himself be selfish here, of all places, where no one could see and judge.

Eventually he let his hands curl around the base, both teasing in opposite strokes. There was nothing special, just the honesty of Ignis and his own attentive hands. As a teenager Ignis had tried everything – toys, positions, places, and loved them all. But there was something wonderful about this honest moment and Ignis sighed and moaned, content.

“Gladio,” he murmured, lost in daydreams of the man who should have been fucking him, and Gladio snorted ungracefully. It almost ruined the moment, but Ignis’ pink tip was soaking and hot to the touch.

“Flattering, but I’m not supposed to be touching you – remember?”

Ignis turned his head to deliver what he hoped was a droll look. With his cock in his hand and face flushed, it may have been hungrier than he had intended. “Who else would I be dreaming of at such a time? Once of the councilmen?”

Immediately Gladio spluttered, lost in a mix of alarm and jealous, and Ignis loved finding more to tease his lover with. There wasn’t a chance that Ignis would ever welcome one of those men into his fantasies, let alone his bed, but he arched his back and sighed nonetheless. “Then again, I do hear that Councilman Laios is quite…”

A growl filled the room. Gladio’s large hand cupped the muscle of his calf, squeezing in warning, and Ignis quickly relented. Since he was little more than a boy Gladio was all he needed to fuel his late nights. Past lovers meant nothing, and passing fancies did not exist. All he needed was Gladio’s straining biceps and the bare expanse of his belly, or fresh out of the shower at eighteen without a towel because _they were all boys here,_ and Ignis couldn’t believe he remembered that still. There wasn’t a single moment he wasn’t devastatingly handsome, or just plain devastating, and perfect.

“Don’t you worry,” Ignis promised with a rumble in his chest, dragging his thumb through the beads of precome that dripped against his skin. “I’m all alone.”

Taking charge of himself for the first time in a while, Ignis sat contentedly back a little further. Propping up his head in their pile of pillows, soothed by silk, he shifted his hips and rubbed along the tip of his cock. Ignis preferred to start slow and tentative, losing his control as the pleasure became pinpricks all across his body. Ignis spent a long while simply warming himself up – as long as he could bear, slicking his path with a little of their lube and tempted beyond words to fuck himself with his own fingers, sinking in deep. But he knew all too well that Gladio wouldn’t be able to resist upon seeing him yearning, left desperately empty and longing for cock. _Later_ , he promised himself.

With time he pushed forward and readjusted his grip. Making a fist he stroked up and down, another hand cupping his balls and toying with them, rolling them in his palm. The pleasure was beyond words and molten hot, his cock soft and velvety against his rougher skin. Ignis moaned long and loud, knowing their neighbours were used to their antics, and began to stroke himself at a furious speed, desperate for more. The burn of pleasure was impossible to deny.

Feet shifting, hips flexing, Ignis was lost. He panted hard, breath scalding. Following a desperate rhythm he felt the build up of pleasure and lay unable to deny it. Ignis’ grip was firm and he twisted beneath the head now and again, a trick he had taught himself and was never able to forget. All the while he squeezed his own balls, rubbing and tugging just hard enough to hiss and cry.

At the other end of the bed the mattress dipped. Ignis almost started – true at Gladio’s hopes, Ignis had entirely forgotten that Gladio was there. He moaned for him, sightless and frantic, and satisfaction curled contentedly in his chest when Gladio stroked along his knee, cupping beneath and pushing it up where it had slipped, hungry for a better view. Ignis followed the silent command and tucked it around Gladio’s shoulder, knowing Gladio loved the room to play and the display of his flexibility. Ignis barely strained with effort, never losing his pace.

Stroking himself rougher than he might have alone, a furious pace, he delighted in the harsh pants of Gladio’s breath. Ignis’ other hand dipped lower down, finding the soft patch of skin just below his balls and teasing, stroking lightly. When he was desperate for release and short of time he would rub insistently, agitating a part of him that would make him sob, but not yet – not yet. _Plenty of time,_ he told himself, burning alive. _No rush._

Alongside the pleasure his curiosity was peaking. Gladio’s hand was dipping lower upon Ignis’ thigh, stroking so lightly that Ignis could barely feel it. Still, it set his skin aflame, and there was no indication of where his other hand was. Such a mystery overtook Ignis’ mind, filling in the gaps of his own fantasies. Ignis savoured the thought of Gladio rubbing heavy cock, petting at his lush head and longing to slip it inside. Gladio had to be staring, eating up every last bit of Ignis’ flushed and wanting body. Ignis was moaning, whining, so damn close to pleading for any scrap of attention. Gladio could never deny himself and had never dreamed of denying Ignis – they were close to the end, Ignis knew, and could have wept for it.

Almost perfectly on cue, as Ignis’ control was about the shatter, Gladio growled like a beast so tantalizingly close to his prey. The mattress gave a squeak as Gladio clambered over him and Ignis savoured his heat. It was all he could do to deny himself the simple pleasure of arching up and rubbing desperately against him, like a teenager. Resisting the urge to steal Gladio away for a kiss Ignis simply fucked up into his own fist, wishing like never before that it was Gladio’s mouth.

It felt good to dream, and to touch. It felt so good paired with his fingers rubbing against his perineum, and Ignis wished that Gladio would be inside him again, thick and hard and far beyond any toy Ignis could entertain himself with.

Just over his belly Ignis recognised the sound of their bottle being clicked open. Smug superiority made him smile, laughing hard enough for his belly to shake. “Giving in, love?”

There was the unattractive sound of lube squelching into a palm. Gladio grunted at him – I’m not here, it said – and Ignis laughed harder, spreading his legs even further. “Touch me,” he keened, young all over again, but Gladio groaned – slicking himself, stroking slow, and Ignis couldn’t help but vocalise his disappointment. “Touch me,” he asked again, and again, moaning all the while.

The soft slick noises above told Ignis more than his sight ever could. The image in his mind’s eye drive him wild, waiting for Gladio’s soft grunts and groans. “Have-” Ignis swallowed hard, throat unbearably tight. His own fingers drifted lower, rubbing against his furl of skin and wishing, wishing. “Have you been thinking of me? Watching me, and thinking of what I might look like? Touching myself?”

A tight pressure was forming in his stomach. It knotted tighter and tighter and Ignis grew breathless. Blood pounded in his ears. It thundered even louder when Gladio pinned his hip, firm and immovable against the mattress. When he leaned closer Ignis swore he could taste him, could feel his panting against his throat. Their thighs met and strained together. There was no more use in fantasy and they both knew it. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Ignis chased Gladio down until they were cock to cock, hands bumping each other with each stroke. If Ignis dared he could seize them both, rut together until they came over their bellies. His mouth ran dry. But he squirmed at one particularly satisfying stroke, catching the thick vein that pulsed beneath, and swallowed a whimper. “How long, love? All day? Sitting at your office thinking of me waiting for you to get home?”

Gladio laughed breathlessly. His hand moved faster and faster. “More like a couple of weeks,” he admitted with no sense of shame and Ignis laughed at him, rubbing himself harder and harder. There was nothing about the revelation that surprised him – he wondered how long Gladio had ogled him, intruding on Ignis’ shower to allegedly brush his teeth, stumbling in when he was changing to find his charger. Ignis never minded, not one bit, and could only laugh and laugh and laugh.

“Worth every minute,” Ignis told him, still snickering, and Gladio finally leaned down to steal a kiss.

The beer on his tongue and the warmth of his lips made Ignis whole. Even when he ached for more Gladio soothed the longing, kissing his sweetly, kissing him harshly, encouraging him all the while. And it would not be much longer – not with the two of them together.

There was so much Ignis wanted. He wanted Gladio’s strong hands to strike his thighs almost as badly as he wanted his come all over his belly. Fumbling for the lube he soaked his hands and belly in his desperation to get a better rhythm on his cock, to stroke between his legs and tease himself with a finger just slipping inside. All the while Gladio grunted over him, the force of his hips enough to make the bed rock against the wall. Ignis wanted it to slam. Fuck the drywall, fuck the wallpaper, fuck the cost. Nothing mattered outside the two of them tonight.

“Touch me,” Ignis called, and hissed in frustration when Gladio’s skin wasn’t immediately upon his. “Touch me, damn it-”

“Wanna watch you make yourself come,” Gladio insisted, made of steel and pleasure, and the slick noises came quicker and quicker. To his credit he reached up and caught a fistful of Ignis’ tawny hair, holding tight enough for Ignis to moan pathetically. It was a promise, and the pleasure made Ignis’ leg shake.

It was bliss. Gladio’s presence, Gladio’s touch, and Gladio’s lack of mercy. Gladio was the greatest pleasure that Ignis had ever known and he almost begged for more, to yank his hair and bite his throat, but that was defeat – and then the end was upon him.

“Kiss me,” Ignis asked, never pleading in his mind, but he knew that was exactly what he was doing. And Gladio could never deny him here, never like this. Sinking down his weight pressed upon Ignis just the way he liked, and Gladio had him pinned. Ignis’ hand barely had enough space to keep stroking and Gladio was hot and hard against his hip.

Gladio’s lips met his roughly, utterly untamed. He surged forward, starving – for Ignis, for his orgasm, and Ignis’ orgasm against his belly. And Ignis was devoured – with Gladio’s lips upon his, a growl against him stealing the rest of his self control, Ignis came hard.

To his disappointment Gladio pulled away, leaving a terrible cold in his absence. But Ignis knew Gladio was memorizing everything. The way Ignis tightened and shook, movement frantic and beyond his control. How his eyelids fluttered, and his lips parted, pink and raw. Ignis moaned the sweetest notes. Thrusting his hips up into his hand he lost himself, spilling hot and bountiful against his belly, nd riding his end all the way through. All shame had left him long ago. Now there was nothing but the last ache of longing, the hope of completion.

By the time he was finished Gladio was snarling right up against Ignis’ ear. “Fuck,” he burst, voice ruined, and _fuck_. Without pause he pushed himself up and ground hard against Ignis’ willing body, both of them choking, and Gladio was done with a shout. Ignis’ hand clumsily covered his a second too late and was soaked with come, stroking haphazardly, and they made a terrible mess of Ignis’ belly together in the stifling heat.

It was the most beautiful sound that Ignis had ever heard. Gladio keened helplessly as he rode out the last pulses of his orgasm, beautiful and straining, and then they were gasping together, breathless.

With time and warmth came peace. Ignis hadn’t realised he was smiling until Gladio shifted over and fell to one side, seizing his hand. It didn’t matter that it was covered in come. Gladio kissed feverishly along the wrist and his knuckles. Ignis’ muscles hurt with how his smile stretched from ear to ear.

A hand slid from his hip to his belly, tracing mindless patterns against Ignis’ skin, but it never felt as wonderful as Gladio’s lips. With time they drifted away, along his forearm and elbow, along his collarbones, and Gladio loved listening to the rhythm of his heart as it pounded only for him.


End file.
